Funeral Flowers
by mallowmarsh4
Summary: The life of Violet J. Bishop has been far from average - a seven year stint in the Scottish Highlands coupled with a very colourful friend, plus the threat of danger looming. However, it seems that the corners of the pages are tinted red.
1. Chapter 1

1st September, 1984

It would have been slightly unorthodox for a child of eleven to be sent off packing to the Scottish highlands in the care of an eccentric old man with an incredible beard, however, to the Bishop family, it was just growing up.

Violet Bishop was eleven and two fifths years old; she had a stiff upper lip (drilled into her by her father) and a very dry sense of humour. Not to mention, her family had magic.

Her mother was a witch, her father a wizard. Her brother, Jude, was about to start his third year of wizardry training in Scotland with said eccentric old man. Considering this old man was eccentric, he ran the biggest and best school of witchcraft and wizardry in the country. Hogwarts. Who cared if the headmaster was a bit cuckoo, Violet was going to learn how to bat-bogey hex someone - this meant ultimate power over the whole of her year group. She could show the slimy tosspot next door who was boss and that was of upmost importance.

Violet had awoken to a flurry of socks raining from the ceiling of her family home. She had immediately called for her mother to sort it out so she could finish packing for Hogwarts. Her trunk was a gorgeous burgundy with shiny brass buckles; engraved on the left side of the trunk was 'Violet J. Bishop' - the J obviously standing for June (her middle name). The small girl had begged and begged for her mother to erase her name from the case due to a tremendously common disease called embarrassment. Evidently, Mrs Bishop had sternly refused.

"Vi, are you sure you have enough parchment packed?" Violet's mother had asked for the twelfth time in under half an hour.

"I am so confident I have enough parchment, I shall insist that each girl in the Ravenclaw dorm writes you a short essay on how I definitely did have enough, Mum," Violet replied, a bit too sarcastic for her mother's liking. That was the other thing about Violet J. Bishop - she was bloody cocky. To her, Ravenclaw was the best house at Hogwarts due to its 'we are the intelligent ones' ethos.

"Chicken, I know you have your heart set on Ravenclaw, but don't be too disappointed if you're not sorted into that house," Mrs Bishop pulled her daughter into a very tight hug and brushed her raven hair out of her bashful face. "The other houses are just as brilliant."

Violet recoiled from her mum's embrace like she had just been slapped; did her mother not think she was smart enough?

"Do you not think I'm intelligent enough to get into Ravenclaw?" She questioned. How dare her mother say something like that!

"Of course not! Don't be silly, Vi!" Her mum soothed. "I just think you shouldn't pine over something that might not happen! You have traits for all of the houses."

"I will get into Ravenclaw." Violet flicked away her mother's fingers and strutted out of her bedroom in search of her brilliant yellow toothbrush.

* * *

The gleeming scarlet steam train tooted its horn as a final warning of departure. Violet and her brother Jude were saying their final goodbyes to their mother and father whilst hanging out one of the tiniest windows on the Hogwarts Express.

"Bye, Mum," Jude shouted above the chattering parents. "You'll survive without us!"

Mrs Bishop just chuckled and wished her children a very successful year at school. She also wished Violet luck in her sorting and insisted the usual weekly updates in school life. Their father gripped Jude's hand with his in a firm handshake and pressed his lips against Violet's forehead.

"Be good, you two," Mr Bishop smiled.

Jude patted his mother's shiny, black head as the train grumbled into life. He wouldn't be seeing his parents until Christmas, which was a long time for a thirteen year old. But at least his sister was starting this year so there would be little homesickness. Jude had no idea which house Vi would be sorted into, he hoped it would be Gryffindor like himself as the siblings did create quite a lot of mischief.

"Well, I'm off to find Bill," Jude removed himself from the window just as the train stormed through a tunnel. "You're welcome to join me."

"Certainly not! I'm going to make my own friends," Violet snorted.

"Good luck with that, little sister," Jude chuckled and left his sister alone in the corridor.

Why did Jude think she needed him to make friends? Violet was going to make her own Ravenclaw friends.

Dragging her trunk by one of the golden handles, Violet made her way down the wood panelled corridor of the Hogwarts Express. She had spotted an almost empty compartment - there was a girl sat alone reading. The girl had brilliant blue hair and a soft face. She looked kind enough, surely she wouldn't refuse a first year? Violet didn't know whether to knock on the glass door or to just slide it open. Luckily enough for her, she didn't need to knock as the girl looked up and gestured for her to come in.

"Hello, my name is Nymphadora Tonks," the girl shut her book and placed it beside her on the bench.

"Violet Bishop," Violet smiled as she tried to yank her bulging trunk through the small doorway.

Nymphadora Tonks was an interesting girl. She was obviously a metamorphmagus due to her ever changing hair colour (it went from brilliant blue to a bottle green to a hot pink and then to a lovely shade of lilac and back to blue). She was incredibly kind yet very clumsy. She had insisted that she help Violet pull her trunk free from the evil grasp of the compartment walls - which had ended up in a health hazard. Nymphadora had fallen over the case and landed in a heap by the very large window showing very boring countryside.

After helping the poor girl up, Violet settled into the other bench. She contemplated dragging Nymphadora by the ankles to show her brother that she had made a friend, but hastily decided against it. She didn't need to prove anything to Jude, she was going to be a Ravenclaw!

"Vi?" Nymphadora had spoken softly, almost as if she didn't want to frighten her.

"Mmhm," Violet mumbled.

"I was thinking, Nymphadora is such a mouthful."

"What would you shorten it to?" Vi questioned.

"My parents call me Dora," she brushed her lilac hair out of her eyes and sighed. Why did her parents have to give her such an obnoxious name?

"Maybe you should just go by your last name, lots of people do that," Violet suggested. Tonks was short and sweet - it definitely suited the lilac-haired girl.

"I love it!" Tonks' face lit up with excitement - she could reinvent herself to be a tough, stubborn and loyal girl who nobody could mess with.

Suddenly, it hit Tonks like a rhinosaurus that they needed to be dressed in their robes by the time the train pulled in at Hogsmeade.

"Vi! We need to change!" Tonks scrambled for her robes which were lying precariously on the floor.

After about twenty minutes, Violet and Tonks were both dressed in their starched black robes.

"This is going to be brilliant!" Violet squealed. The Hogwarts castle had just appeared behind the loping hills. Within the valley, a small village was lit up like a beacon in the darkness.

"That's Hogsmeade!" Tonks pointed at the glowing village as they zoomed past.

Violet remained silent due to the overwhelming beauty of the castle. She was gobsmacked. She knew the Hogwarts castle was supposed to be stunning, but she didn't realise how breathtaking the design of the building was.

The Hogwarts express was braking as it glided into the Hogsmeade station just as the last rays of light had died out.

"Wow, I can't believe that castle is going to be our home for the next seven years," Tonks gushed to Vi as they vacated the compartment.

"I know!" Violet squealed as they pushed through a gaggle of fourth years.

The platform was swarming with Hogwarts students. Gryffindor and Hufflepuff and Slytherin and Ravenclaw all whizzed past a gormless Violet and Tonks.

"Firs' years, firs' years!" A booming voice cried over the hustle and bustle of all of the students. Violet followed the stream of first years to the man with the booming voice. He was a giant with a very messy head of hair and beard and a round stomach.

"Is that all of yeh?" The man scratched the top of his head.

"I think so, sir!" A scrawny boy with glasses and freckles stood small and proud, Violet reckoned he suffered with Little Man Syndrome.

"Tha's good because Professor McGonagall would not be 'appy if you lot turned up late!" The man scoffed. "This way!"

The giant lead the first years away from the crowd of Hogwarts students.

"My name is Hagrid and I'm the groundskeeper here at Hogwarts," Hagrid announced as he lead the way towards a very large lake. "You will be gettin' to Hogwarts across the Black Lake."

Violet had believed the sight of Hogwarts from the train had been the most beautiful thing she had seen, she was sorely mistaken. The glistening water of the Black Lake was reflecting the castle. As Vi stared, mouth agape, she realised how truly lucky she was to be going to such an amazing school in such a breathtaking location.

"Four per boat!" Hagrid hurried the children along into the small wooden boats.

Violet and Tonks had ended up sharing with the obnoxious, scrawny boy with Little Man Syndrome (who was named Albert Sparrow) and another girl with unruly, spiral hair and golden eyes named April Winters.

The trip to the castle was silent but for the occasional lap of water at the sandy beach. It seemed to Hagrid the gameskeep that this year was a moody lot. Usually, there was a trendous amount of chatter and squeal. He tugged at his beard as they arrived at the other side of the lake and directed the first years up the hill where Professor McGonagall would be waiting.

The trek wasn't very long or tiring yet the children remained quiet - suspicially so, in fact, Hagrid was sure they were all up to something.

As it turned out, Violet was definitely not planning anything, she was just in awe of the overwhelming castle.

"Thank you, Hagrid," a stern looking woman with a worn face and a spectacular witch's hat (who Violet assumed to be the infamous Professor McGonagall) nodded as the group neared the main entrance of the castle.

"The Sorting Ceremony is a ceremony that will sort each and every one of you into one of the four houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Slytherin and Ravenclaw. Your house will be a subsitute family; you will earn points for accomplishments and points will be deducted for rule-breaking. Most of the students prefer to spend their free time within the comforts of their common room."

The professor explained to the nodding eleven year olds.

"Now, if you would please follow me," and with a flick of the teacher's wand, the fantastic wooden doors squeaked open to show a magnificent entrance hall.

The professor lead them through the entrance hall with tapestries and paintings draping the stone walls.

"This is the Great Hall, here you will eat each of your meals," the professor opened one of the magnificent doors into the hall.

Every face within the hall had turned to gawk at the newbies. Each house was sat in long tables lined with students. Gryffindor resided on the right and Slytherin on the left.

Violet's brother was stood up, trying to catch a sight of his sister before her sorting. Jude could see Violet looking timid whilst stood next to a girl with hot pink hair.

Professor McGonagall placed a weathered and torn hat on a stool in front of the teacher's table. The hall grew silent as they waited for the great lament produced by the hat.

_"And here I am, _

t_he Sorting Hat, _

_not here for just display._

_My tears and rips_

_show such wise tips, _

_on where you do belong!_

_Dear Ravenclaw felt such strong_

_belief of the survival of the brightest,_

_but did Slytherin feel_

_that blood had to be of the very purest, _

_Hufflepuff did huff and puff _

_against that dear suggestion _

_she believed that you to be loyal_

_and kind, _

_lastly came Gryffindor _

_with his proud lionheart _

_he wanted the brave and strong _

_not the weak and cowardly. _

_The four did squabble for a while_

_until Godric whipped me off his head _

_'he shall decide! _

_They shall be in houses!' _

_Since then I have been." _

The hall errupted in applaud as the Sorting Hat bowed. McGonagall stood and opened a scroll. It appeared to Violet that all you had to do was try on the hat. How hard could that be?

"Alsford, Robert," McGonagall announced as a round blonde haired boy plodded up to the stool. He sat down as the Sorting Hat was placed on his head.

Suddenly, the hat exclaimed "HUFFLEPUFF!"

The Hufflepuff table cheered as the boy shuffled towards the table.

"Anderson, Sally." A dark haired girl strutted towards the stool and gracefully sat, crossing her leg over the other. She waited graciously as the Hat ummed and ahhed.

"SLYTHERIN!"

The Slytherin table wooped as the girl skipped for the bench.

Violet waited anxiously whilst two other first years were sorted. She snuck a glance at Tonks who smiled in return. She stared at the marble floor until she heard her name.

"Bishop, Violet."

Violet walked up to the stool. She was always so certain she was going to be a Ravenclaw, but now a wave of nausea hit her. What if she wasn't Ravenclaw material? How embarrassing would that be? The Hat was delicately placed on top of her head.

"Hmm... Another Bishop," the Hat whispered. "A very quick mind, you have. But hard working, maybe... Hufflepuff? No. Your bravery stands out. You have a very strong mind... A little outspoken."

Violet squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the announcement. She couldn't bare to look at Jude, she was terrified she wouldn't be in Ravenclaw.

"You must be..." The Hat grumbled. "GRYFFINDOR!"

Violet's eyes almost shot out of her head. Gryffindor? But she wasn't brave! She wasn't strong! Admittedly, she had a sharp tongue, but she wasn't outspoken and ready to stand up for anything! Maybe the Hat was wrong.

Stumbling towards the Gryffindor table, she glanced back at Tonks who just strugged.

"Welcome to Gryffindor, little sister," Jude greeted her as she slumped on the bench.

* * *

_Hello! This is my first fic so please review and leave some comments for improvement and such (I'm going to be starting a creative writing course at college so I figured what better practice could I have?). _

_This fic should be updated regularly (only a week left at school and I am freeeeeeeeeeeee for a whole 11 weeks! Until September when I start college and bam A Levels start!) _

_but yeah review and stuff and I'll give you unlimited ice cream and pizza and all that jazz_

_(Also, I felt I should warn you that the language may get a lot worse as the story progresses due to teenage angst and stuff so if you don't like reading swears, filter it with a bleeping sound! I once read a book and a girl had a voice machine thingy and whenever she swore it said bleep so that was entertaining ok goodbye I shall stop the rambling ok adios au revouir (?) see ya chow toodles) _

**- DISCLAIMER - I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THE CHARACTERS YOU MAY RECOGNISE (THAT PRIVILEDGE LIES WITH MY QUEEN JKR) - **


	2. Chapter 2

12th May, 1989

_Stress: a state of mental or emotional strain or tension resulting_ _from adverse or demanding circumstances._

'Demanding circumstances' was very ambiguous. For instance, the situation could be mentally demanding (an examination determining a sixteen year old's future), or physically demanding (a duel with one of the foulest, evilest, ugliest Slytherins ever), or both. Unfortuantely for Violet, it was the former.

Exam season was the worst time of the year for every student in Hogwarts - as well as breaching the magical boundaries and seeping into the muggle world. For the fifth and seventh years, it was the most crucial part of their education. Violet Bishop just so happened to be a fifth former, whilst her brother (two years her senior) just so happened to be a seventh year - considering this was the mos integral part of their time in Hogwarts, what the future held was not too good.

The sun's rays were beating down through the leaves of an aged oak tree sat beside the Black Lake. With a variety of textbooks and snacks from the kitchen, Violet and Tonks sat in silence. The raven haired witch was growing more and more frustrated with every turn of a page.

"That's it!" Violet slammed the potions book together. "I'm going to go insane!"

"Giving up?" Tonks asked with one raised eyebrow. "Didn't think you Gryffindors had it in you."

"Oh, shut up," Violet huffed. She was not in the greatest of moods (it seemed to be a mixture of stress, sleepless nights and the extra responsibilities of being on the quidditch team) and it certainly was not helped by Tonks' sarcasm.

Nostrils flared and breathing a bit too deeply, Violet lay in the grass. She had too much on her plate - she knew that. On top of her exams and quidditch commitments, she was also supposed to be helping fellow Gryffindor and fifth year Desmond Haw (he just so happened to be a very good friend of Tonks and Vi) secure the E he needed for N.E.W.T level herbology. Needless to say, whenever Vi had arranged to revise with Den, he was at least three quarters of an hour late.

Violet was all for giving up on Desmond for today's lesson until she saw the sandy curls belonging to her friend bouncing down the hill towards them. She inwardly groaned - was it so bad just to want to finish the chapter of the book she had stolen from a muggle library (it was named To Kill A Mockingbird - although, she hadn't actually read any instructions on how to actually murder a mockingbird) before her last quidditch practice before the game against Slytherin?

"Dora! Vi!" Den called as he neared their little campsite. His grey eyes were glistening and he had a smirk slapped on his face.

"Let me guess," Tonks sighed. "You were on your way but you were stopped by a troll who needed directions to the dungeons so he could bludgeon Snape to death. But, he took a right instead of the left and ended up chasing Flitwick around his classroom and you had to go and sort it out."

"Actual-"

"AND DON'T CALL ME DORA!" Tonks roared, her whole head turning fire engine red. Violet was pretty sure she could see steam flowing from her ears.

Violet rolled her eyes, Tonks always got like this when Desmond had let them down. Although he was a very good friend and would be there at the drop of a hat if needs be, he was hopeless at set dates and times.

"No, actually," Den quipped with a smirk. "I stopped some Slytherins pummeling a young Hufflepuff."

"Seriously?" Violet blurted, Den had never been very responsible.

"Ask McGonagall if you don't believe me," he straightened his tie. "And don't look at me like that, Dora."

With that, Tonks had thumped Desmond's head with her care of magical creatures book. Violet had always admired the friendship Tonks and Den shared - they had been friends since birth and were going to be friends for life. Violet just hoped she was going to be another friend for life.

"Oh, by the way," Den looked up from his essay. "Cleek told me to remind you that training starts at five, not six minutes past five like last time."

"Bloody bastard," Violet gathered her things into her bag.

Bidding her friends farewell, she made her way back to Gryffindor tower. The funny thing was, Violet only usually enjoyed playing quidditch non-competitively - just as a bit of fun, much to the dismay of their git of a captain, Hugh Cleek.

Scrambling her way across the common room, Violet was late for practice. Again.

Hugh would have her head - he threatened to kick her off the squad if she was so much as one second late. But at least she was already in her gear.

Luckily, Cleek was in the changing room, collecting his precious clipboard with all his precious game plans, so Violet could sneak in undetected. She clambered upon her brand new Shooting Star and almost lept into the air.

Quaffles and bludgers were whizzing past Violet's head in the stifling summer air. She needed to concentrate - get into the zone. She blinked and took a deep breath.

"Oi, Bishop!" Someone called. "Don't just sit there!"

The force of the quaffle almost winded Violet as she caught it. Immediately, she dipped towards the ground, trying to avoid a bludger. That was the thing about chasers, they seemed to attract the bludgers.

Securing her grip on the quaffle, she took a sharp right whilst she slowly grew further and further away from the grass. Vi glanced around - Luca Woodfork was the only other chaser actually in the air. She sent the quaffle flying into Woodfork's arms. He sped towards the three rings, preparing the quaffle in his arms. Josie Vint (Gryffindor's star keeper) was hovering in front of the central hoop, ready to leap either right or left. Woodfork feigned a left-hand shot; Violet's face lit up as she watched the quaffle shoot through the centre of the hoop on the right. Vint was a fraction of a second too late and narrowly missed protecting her beloved hoops.

"Everybody," Cleek's voice boomed. "On the ground, now!"

Violet sank towards the ground, silently praying to Merlin that Cleek didn't notice her sneak in late.

The team gathered around the captain, broomsticks (and in some cases, bats) in hand. Mentally, Cleek checked off everyone's name with a big green tick.

"Game plan for tomorrow," he huffed. "Beaters - Slytherin are going to be playing dirty, make sure you're prepared for the foulest, most stubborn bludgers you'll ever have to whack."

The two beaters nodded. The Gryffindor beaters were an odd mix - Reuben Blanding was beefy with a very stern glare, he always smashed the bludgers with a crack that echoed throughout the stadium. The other beater, Tabitha Lightman, was the opposite; she was small and nimble - that made her fast. She was always there to propel the bludger at Reuben (and unsuspecting Slytherins) who would smash it out passed the stands or at a particularly foul opposer.

"Chasers," Cleek turned his squinting face at Violet. "Be quick and don't be sloppy - if you have to, give one of the Slytherins a quick shove."

Violet and Luca agreed - why couldn't they give a dirty, rotten scoundrel a quick jab?

"Josie, love, I'm going to need you in tip top condition tomorrow," Cleek smiled. The only thing unfair about the Gryffindor quidditch team was the favouritism that their captain showed towards Josie - it probably helped that she was his girlfriend.

"Wealsey!" Cleek bellowed. Rather shocked, Wealsey whipped his head around to face Cleek. Violet had no idea what he was so interested in, but she knew it was happening down near Hagrid's cabin.

"Cleek," Weasley replied coolly.

"Just do your thing," Cleek spat with narrowed eyes. He wasn't too fond of Charlie Weasley but he was a damn good seeker.

Cleek ordered the whole team into the air so they could practice their twists and turns. They had been at it for a solid half hour until something drew Violet's attention.

"Vi!" A male voice echoed across the pitch. Violet knew that voice anywhere - it was her brother.

Glancing around for what seemed like hours, she finally saw the running figure that was Jude Bishop. His usually floppy and swishy hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat - his tie flapping around. Vi had never seen her brother looking so pained - his face had lines she had never seen before.

"Violet!" He cried, gesturing for her to come down from such great height. She complied and was in his bone-crushing hug in seconds.

"Wha-" Violet could not finish her enquiry; her breath was ensnared by her throat. The wetness of her brother's cheek was terrifying - she had never seen him like this.

"It-" Jude took a very deep breath. "It's Mum."

"What about Mum?" Violet felt like she already knew the answer.

Jude's reply was incomprehensible - all he could produce were sobs.

"McGonagall's office," Violet grabbed her brother's hand and took off running.

Vi heard Cleek roar with anger, but she ignored it. She was not going to be bullied into staying - her mother was in trouble.

"BISHOP!" Cleek was angry. "IF YOU TAKE ANOTHER STEP, YOU ARE OFF THE TEAM!"

Somewhere, deep in Violet's mind, she realised that she didn't enjoy playing like she used to - with Cleek as a captain, it was all so serious.

Sod Cleek!

Violet pushed her legs as fast as they would go (she could vaguely hear Cleek and Weasley's argument) and dragged Jude behind her.

The Bishop siblings arrived outside McGonagall's office in no time. Hastily, Violet didn't bother knocking and just threw the door open.

"Ah," McGonagall's usually stern face was soft - almost stricken with worry. "Miss and Mr Bishop."

By this time, the elder Bishop had thrown back his shoulders and wiped his eyes. "We need to go to St. Mungo's."

"Of course," the professor nodded and handed them a bag of Floo powder.

Stepping onto the hearth, the powder cascaded through Violet's fingers as she croaked "St. Mungo's."

* * *

_Hello friends! So, this is the next installment! As you can probably tell, this fic is gonna fast forward into the future quite a bit so I hope you're okay with that!_

_To my first ever reviewer (who goes by the name of Sunshine72) thank you so much for taking time out of your day to review! It definitely means a lot! I hope you enjoy this chapter (I updated early especially for you!) _

_So, three more exams to go and then I am free! Expect another update somewhere between now and probably Wednesday or Thursday as I already have one and a half chapters pre-written! Exciting stuff, yas?_

_Please do review and favourite because it makes me incredibly happy to see that people are reading (and enjoying) this fic because it is very fun to write! _

**- DISCLAIMER - I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THE CHARACTERS YOU MAY RECOGNISE (THAT PRIVILEDGE LIES WITH MY QUEEN JKR) - **


	3. Chapter 3

12th May, 1989

After gathering her scattered bearings, Violet bolted for the reception desk, her brother on her tail.

"Good evening," a pretty, blonde twenty-something year old said. The girl (her name tag claimed her name was Susan Southwood) sat a little taller and a little more provocatively at the sight of Jude. Her low cut shirt underneath her regulation green robes covered hardly any flesh.

Twiddling a bright pink quill in her fingers, Susan purred, "How may I help you, sir?"

Violet glared at the woman whilst her brother tripped on his words.

"I- uh," Jude bumbled. "Our mother's here, I believe?"

"What's her name, handsome?" Southwood fluttered her ridiculously fluttery eyelashes.

"Evelyn Bishop." Violet's stoic expression mimicked her stoic and assertive tone. The quill scratched the surface of the parchment - if it was ordinary parchment, Violet would scream - although, it seemed to be some sort of system that held patient details.

"Um, it's a 'y', not an 'i'," Jude corrected sheepishly.

"Silly me," the girl touched Jude's arm flirtatiously.

Violet could only take so much.

"GET YOUR SODDING HANDS OFF MY BROTHER AND TELL US WHERE OUR MOTHER IS!" Violet shrieked whilst she fumbled around for her wand. She had suddenly become a ferocious bear whilst the girl behind the desk morphed into a timid little mouse.

"Violet!" Her brother scolded and apologised to Susan Southwood, who graciously accepted it and said that their mother was placed the Kendra Whorton Ward for Emergencies. Susan had waved at Jude until the lift doors had closed.

"Godric, Vi," Jude sighed as the lift threw the siblings this way and then that. "You need to learn to control your bloody temper!"

"Shut up, you prat," Violet frowned - had she really let slip of the usually tight reigns? Was she really overreacting and being ridiculous?

An overwhelming amount of worry and sorrow soaked Violet from head to toe. Forget the temper tantrum, Susan the tart hadn't actually said what was wrong with their mother - what if it was very serious? Violet hadn't even thought of what was wrong with her, she was just so adamant on getting to her as fast as possible.

The lift groaned as it approached the fifth floor of the hospital. The bronze diamonds of the cage between the door of the floor and the elavator itself clacked and clanged as it opened at a snail's pace. Feeling a reassuring arm snake around Violet's shoulders, she glanced up at her brother's lined, worried face as they scurried out of the lift.

The Kendra Whorton Ward for Emergencies was a very sterile - and not to mention the vile bleachy stench - yet welcoming environment. It wasn't the actual accident and emergency department, but it was the ward patients were placed on before they were sent to specialist departments. A quivery, aged volunteer met Violet and Jude halfway between the lift and the entrance to the ward.

"May I help you?" The witch pulled her thin, wrinkly lips into a wide smile.

"Our mother-" Violet frantically tried to form a sentence out of the few words she seemed to remember. "Our mother, Evelyn Bishop, is on this ward and I insist that we see her - at once!"

"You Gryffindors, always the same." The woman chuckled. "If you'd like to follow me."

Violet glanced down at her muddy quidditch robes - she hadn't had time to change before Jude had found her. She still had her gloves on, for Merlin's sake!

Assistant Beevings - or so her name badge said - lead the Bishop siblings straight down the middle of the ward, dying sunlight glinting off of her spectacles, hung from a beaded chain around her neck. The click of her shoes echoed throughout the ward, scratching the cold, hard marble tiles.

"Here you are," Beevings delicately pulled a curtain along its shiny brass rail, to reveal Mrs Evelyn Bishop.

Violet had prepared herself for the worst - cuts, bruises, bandages and wires were what she had envisioned. However, she had never expected this. Her mother lay flat on the putrid green hospital gurney with her eyes closed. If you ignored the weeping gash striking Evelyn Bishop's face, she looked youthful yet worn; tired yet refreshed.

The rawness of his mother shocked Jude Bishop to the very core. Her hair was splayed on the pillow, knotted and matted with blood; Evelyn Bishop was not awake, and it would stay like that for quite a while. Jude summoned a plastic chair for himself whilst his sister seated herself in the visitor's chair at their mother's bedside. Horrified, all he could think about was trying to protect his little sister from the sight. Violet didn't need to see their mother in such an awful condition - hell, their mother shouldn't be in such an awful condition! Although, he didn't have to worry about Violet seeing any more of their mother as she appeared to have incredibly droopy

A mediwizard trotted over to the siblings, with intention on discussing Mrs Bishop's state and whether they will return to Hogwarts or will need a place to stay as neither of them looked old enough to apparate, however, it seemed that Jude had beaten him to it.

"How're you guys holding up?" The healer asked, it seemed that Violet had fallen asleep in the pea green seat. "We're going back to Hogwarts," Jude sighed, "if that is what you are asking."

The healer placed a friendly hand on Jude's shoulder and concluded that it would probably be for the best and that if they need any help getting back, he would be happy to lend them some Floo powder.

"Sorry, uh-" Jude squeezed his eyes and tapped at his temple. "But, do you happen to know what might have caused this?"

With a firm grip on his wand, the healer summoned a seat for himself and sat rigidly.

"Well, it's probably too early to be one hundred per cent sure..." The healer shrugged his shoulders.

"But?" Jude questioned.

"But - I reckon this was not a random attack. The curse used against your mother is, somewhat, unidentifiable. And - not to mention - she was found outside your home in muggle London." The healer's tone was patronising, Jude wasn't going to let this wizard boss him around.

"So, what you're saying is that my mother was targeted?" Jude's usually deep, steady voice cracked so the last few syllables of his sentence were almost hysterical.

"I am not saying anything, merely suggesting my opinion. Anyway, you will have to leave playing detective to the aurors and the MLE," the mediwizard stood. "Your father should be with you shortly."

Once the healer had left, Jude really let himself feel. It wasn't common for Jude to actually acknowledge that he was a person with emotions - he was expected (probably because he is a male, and, stereotypically those are the most "emotionally controlled" you can get) to have a heart of stone because, apparently, "Bishop men show neither fear nor cowardice, just courage." Just the mere thought of having to appear courageous and brave in front of his father made him terrified - not to mention the venomous hatred he felt towards whoever had maimed his mum. Hatred, fear and the un-courageous mood he was in did not create the feelings cocktail desired which was disastrous as Mr Asher Bishop did not look happy.

"Who," just that one word produced by the infamous, tight-lipped sent shivers down Jude's spine - deep down, Jude knew he wasn't supposed to be scared of his own father, but that didn't make the cut of his list of priorities, "on Earth is the healer in charge of my wife's care?"

Asher Bishop was a stern faced man with far too many wrinkles and edges for his age. He was barely thirty nine years old but had the forehead creases of a three hundred and ninety year old. Although, he hadn't always been like this. When Jude and Violet were small, he had been the fun loving, exciting man he had been during his Hogwarts years. To an extent, Jude believed that the War had changed his dad. He had been the typical family man but due to his heavy involvement with the War and some underground society - which he refused to tell his children anything about - he had become firmer and tougher to please.

"Dad," Jude stood on reflex.

"Son," his father clapped Jude on the back and conjured a chair. "What in Merlin's name are you doing here?"

"Uh-" Jude stuttered - he had no idea his father was going to be so calm in this situation. "Dumbledore informed us."

"Sodding Dumbledore," Jude's father rolled his eyes and leant forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His chrome cuff links looking, almost, out of place in the sterile environment. "Jude, I need you to take yourself and Violet back to Hogwarts immediately. I shall write to Dumbledore with an official complaint as I specifically stated that I did not want you informed! You both have enough to worry about."

"Hang on," Jude, suddenly alert, whipped his head around to face his father. "You told Dumbledore not to tell us. How dare you!"

It was not often that Jude Bishop lost his cool and collected mentality - but when he did, he erupted, shouting explicit slurs and spewing word vomit. Before his father could grab his shoulder to push him back into his seat (like he had done plenty of times), Jude started pacing.

"How bloody dare you!" Jude roared and he did not give a damn who heard him.

"Jude!" Mr Bishop had his index fingers resting on his temples with his eyes firmly closed. "This is neither the time, nor the place!"

"Honestly," Jude smirked. "I could not give a rat's arse." As those final words tumbled out of Jude's angry lips, Asher Bishop snapped open his eyes and glared at his hysterical heir. "Don't glare at me like that, Father," Jude laughed, hauntingly. "Don't sit there - all high and mighty - like you haven't done anything wrong, no, actually, you betrayed us! You betrayed your own children!"

Looking awfully dazed, the healer from earlier was nervously skipping around the two, obviously, trying to diffuse the situation.

"I DID IT TO PROTECT YOU!" Mr Bishop bellowed, causing a sleeping Violet to stir. Her eyes had barely been open for a minute before she spotted her father.

"Daddy?" Violet blinked, incredibly confused.

"Please, tell me how lying to us is protecting us! I'd love to see how the inside of your brain works, Father, as that isn't what I'd call protection," Jude sneered and spun around on his heels, clasping his sister's hand in the , Violet followed her brother out of their mother's room into the corridor (it wasn't like she had any choice - the grip her brother had on her was extraordinarily strong.)

It seemed that Mr Bishop had no way to justify himself as he stood, gormless as ever, watching his only son and daughter stalk out of the ward, loathing.

* * *

_hello friends, how are you today? after an incredibly hard maths exam this morning (although, i don't really understand why i was made to redo it as i already have a pass?), i am updating (mainly to put off any revision i have to do!)_

_also, friday is my last ever day in high school so i will have a lot more time to update!_

_so, review and fave and keep reading bc we are almost at 100 views and that is gonna be great_

* * *

_PS - this is like the fourth time i've uploaded this chapter so sorry if there's any confusion!_

_PSS - if there's anything weird - like "/br/br/" - PLEASE TELL ME bc i will get rid of it - idk what's up with rn but i've spotted it in other stories as well - SORT IT OUT DOT NET PLS LOVE FROM ME X_


	4. Chapter 4

13th May, 1989

The idea of a room representing a person's feelings was, to Violet, absolutely preposterous, until she had realised that the scattered books and parchment, mismatched furniture and the odd table growing from the rug here and there of the Gryffindor common room was actually just a humongous metaphor (it probably wasn't, due to it always looked like a bomb had gone off within the confines of Gryffindor Tower) for the inside of Violet's head. Her emotions were ranging from extreme anger to a passionate hate (plus, the somewhat amazement that she felt towards her father due to the lengths he would go to just to avoid a "scandal") - so much so, in the end, she decided to raid the Seventh Years' stash of firewhiskey hidden beneath the floorboards to subdue the roar of thoughts screaming within her brain.

The burn in her belly was not enough to stop Violet from drinking the whole bottle, it seemed. After lapping the last drop of firewhiskey up with her tongue, Violet swung her arms out like a proud eagle, ready to fly. Unfortunately, in her drunken state, the raven haired witch's grip on the empty bottle loosened and sent it soaring across the room. The bottle collided with an armchair and crashed to the floor, shattering into thousands of deadly shards.

"Nononono," Violet slurred, whilst she clung to the sofa for some sort of moral support and protection. She buried her face under one of the raggedy cushions, waiting for McGonagall to materialise and give her detention. Luckily enough, it was not the head of Gryffindor who appeared, but their star seeker instead.

"Hello?" Charlie Weasley whispered, sceptically, as he tiptoed down the stairs. "Is anyone there?"

Cushions tumbling all over the place, Violet's head snapped upwards at such a speed she - somehow - ended up in a heap on the floor. The four lamps around the room sparked and light flooded the room to reveal a very confused looking Violet Bishop lying on the threadbare rug.

"Oww," Violet groaned with squinty eyes. She could barely lift her head from the ground.

Crunching through the shards of glass all over the floor, Charlie rushed to Violet, "Are you okay, Bishop?" Charlie asked, scratching his red head.

"Welllll," Violet's usually clear eyes were cloudy and half closed, her whole body stank of alcohol.

"Merlin, Bishop," Charlie knelt and gathered the girl into his muscular arms. She clung to his pyjama top as he lifted her to the safety of the couch. With a suspicious eye, Charlie had to pry Violet's shaking fingers from his T-shirt.

"Violet," Charlie raised an eyebrow. "Are you drunk?"

"No!" She shook her head frantically.

"Bloody hell, we have a match tomorrow!" Charlie groaned, how inconsiderate was that? Violet had to be one of the best chasers, and here she was, pissed out of her mind!

"Nope!" Her drunken pout was comparable to a puppy in a teacup. Confused, Charlie raised an eyebrow. "Mr. Big Broom kicked me off the team, Red!"

"Yeah, I remember," he groaned, "balls." The Slytherin versus Gryffindor game was the match of the year! Even those who were indifferent came to support their house.

"Balls indeedy!" Violet giggled. Somewhere in the back of Violet's mind, she had no idea how she had become this liberated for not even six hours ago, she was an emotional wreck.

Maturely, Charlie decided he was going to have to find Violet's brother to come and deal with her. This was not his responsibility - blimey, Violet wasn't even his friend! He had no idea what had made her pick up that bottle but he knew it wasn't something he should be concerning himself with; he should be asleep! Not only did he have OWLs to revise for, he had the match!

"Okay," Charlie took a deep breath. "Vi, I'm going to have to try and find Jude - he should be the one to sort you out, not me."

Her eyes went as wide as a galleon and turned to glass. Sheepishly, Charlie stood with no real motivation to leave. He couldn't just leave her here!

"Don't t-t-tell Jude!" Violet burst into tears, her shoulders rattled whilst her fingers fumbled at her eyes. "He's just got so much to worry about!"

Dumbfounded, Charlie stared at her. He didn't know what to do - Violet Bishop was not a crier! She was the girl who always had a beaming smile on her face. Charlie didn't need to think, his arms acted of their own accord; he folded the sobbing witch into his arms, soaking his pyjama T-shirt in the process.

The ticking of the grandfather clock was the only indicator of time slowly grinding by. Two figures lay snoring in the common room; one, slightly larger than the other, was sprawled all over the ground with his head at an unusual angle - the other was curled around a cushion like it was a teddy bear.

* * *

To say that Violet had had a rough night was an understatement - but to say that she was going to have an even more troublesome morning was just daft. After being shaken awake by a third year, Violet had dismissed the whole affair as a bad dream until she saw a sleeping Charlie Weasley laying beside her.

"Oh crap," Violet groaned as her head throbbed and throbbed. Just as she thought the pain was fading, a newer, fresher wave washed over her. She pulled at her legs and tried to encourage them to move.

Plagued with fatigue, Violet struggled to do even the most mundane of tasks, for example, blinking - that was probably to do with the incredibly high percentage of pollen in the air and her tremendously puffy eyes. She wondered when the sneezing and snotting was going to start, hopefully it would hold off until she got back to bed.

"BISHOP!" Violet recognised that voice from anywhere. Awaking a certain sleeping ginger, an angry Hugh Cleek thundered through the portrait hole with a furious glare plastered on his face. "Sodding hell, please tell me you have some sort of reason for being this... demented!"

"Pardon?" Violet narrowed her eyes - how dare Cleek speak to her like that?

"Oh, I don't know," Cleek snarled. "The match?"

"Hold on, you prick," a sleepy (and very handsome) Charlie Weasley pushed himself up from the floor, his muscles showing from beneath his T-shirt. "You kicked her off the team!"

"I did no such thing!" Cleek defended with such a bellow it actually frightened Violet.

"Liar!" Charlie gestured for Violet to stay as she was, squished in a ball on the sofa, as he squared up to Cleek. Admittedly, Charlie was a significant amount shorter, but what he lacked in the height department, he made up for in muscle and logic - Cleek knew this all too well as this was not an uncommon sight.

"I may be a lot of things, Weasley," Cleek spat with such venom, "but I am not a liar."

The pair had seemed to attract an audience - Gryffindors were lounging in a ring around them, some were gossiping, some were placing bets (Violet could faintly hear that it was seven to one for Cleek to actually walk away victorious - Charlie was notorious for winning fights). Violet had to kick her way through a gaggle of sixth year girls, swooning over Charlie Weasley in his nighttime attire.

Through the puffiness of her eyes, she saw Cleek throw a clenched fist in the direction of Weasley's face. It was obvious that Charlie was not going to stand there and take it like a big girl's blouse.

"Stop it!" Violet shrieked, her fingernails poised for scratching off Cleek's grotesque face. A pair of arms wrapped themselves around her torso with a vicelike grip as Charlie took the punch direct to his jaw. She battled the pythonlike hold fiercely, until a familiar voice whispered in her ear.

"Vi," Desmond's voice was soft considering what was going on around them. "Just leave it. Go put your quidditch robes on and I'll get you some breakfast and sort those two thugs out."

The clutch Den had on his friend loosened and turned into a hug. Violet thanked him and disappeared into the girls' dormitories.

"Alright, alright - clear off!" Den waded through the crowd. Cleek was on the floor wheezing whilst Charlie kicked ten bales of hell out of him. "Ladies, I think this has gotten too far, don't you agree?"

Hastily, Cleek nodded with a quivering jaw. Charlie, stood with his head in his hands, had stopped kicking him. Den grabbed Cleek by the wrist and yanked him to his feet.

"Thank you, Desmond," Cleek sulked as he straightened his robes.

"Oh, piss off back to whatever rock you crawled out of," Den hoped that gave Cleek the kick up the arse he needed to get out of there quick.

"What have I done," Charlie sank to his knees in the now almost deserted common room. Den didn't know how to reply, he was shocked his roommate had been pushed to his limit so quickly.

"Well, for starters," Den forced a grin. "You showed Cleek who is the boss around here, that's for sure."

As it happened, Charlie did not find that comforting in any way and told Den to stick his head somewhere unpleasant until the sun doesn't shine.

"Touchy aren't we?" Den chuckled with a sad smile and wrapped an arm around his friend's shoulders. "Let's get some breakfast in you."

* * *

_Hello friends! _

_GUESS WHAT? THERE HAS BEEN ALMOST 150 VIEWS ON THIS FIC OMG IM SO HAPPY! _

_I never expected something that I have written to get almost 150 people having a little peak at this fic wow omg_

_Also, I HAVE OFFICIALLY LEFT HIGH SCHOOL GOOD BYE GCSES GOOD BYE MATHS AND SCIENCE AND SPANISH AND HISTORY AND ALL THOSE CRAPPY THINGS GOOD BYE I TELL YOU _

_idk if it wasn't 1am I doubt I'd even post this but I wanted to get it up! Idk but this chap has just been so difficult to write so sorry if it's a bit lousy! _

_(to those in the UK have you seen TFIOS yet? BEST MOVIE ADAPTATION I THINK EVER (obvs excluding Harry potter and lotr and the outsiders and a few others so maybe not the best adaptation ever but it's been the best one in a long while) - I cried so much like I was literally sobbing!)_

_please review and fave and follow because it makes my day to see that people are enjoying the fic - also, if you have any ways to help me improve my writing just leave a review!_

**- DISCLAIMER - I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THE CHARACTERS YOU MAY RECOGNISE (THAT PRIVILEDGE LIES WITH MY QUEEN JKR - **


	5. Chapter 5

13th May, 1989

To be honest, Charlie was just happy that he was never going to have to play a quidditch match with that git Cleek again (thank Merlin he was in his seventh and final year of Hogwarts!). He didn't know why he hated Cleek, he just knew that he did. If it wasn't for the constant criticisms on Charlie's game, it was his nasty, stabbing comments that ruffled Charlie's feathers; Cleek always found a way to push Charlie's buttons.

"AND IT APPEARS TO BE A BAD DAY FOR BISHOP," seventh year commentator, Zander Shell, squawked over the crowd. "SHE MISSED THE HOOPS AGAIN!"

Charlie was amazed, no, shocked - what on earth was going on with that girl? She never missed a shot! He saw her shake her head, defeatedly, at Cleek - who replied with his middle finger.

"Come on," Charlie groaned, even if he did catch the snitch, Gryffindor would still lose.

He was hovering at least seven feet above his teammates when he spotted the golden snitch, basking in the May sunlight at the base of Slytherin's hoops.

"WEASLEY HAS SPOTTED THE SNITCH!" Shell roared.

Lurching towards the ground, all Charlie could do was try to block out Ravenclaw's main pain in the arse, Zander Shell, who was wrongly given position of commentator.

"WITH NO POINTS TO GRYFFINDOR AND SLYTHERIN WITH ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY-" Shell's voice was cut off by the roaring coming from the Slytherin stands. Charlie didn't know if it was because he was getting nearer to them or if it was them getting louder.

Stretching every tendon in his body with such force was not enough for the snitch as it fluttered forward, back out into the open pitch.

"-EEMS THAT EVEN THE FAMOUS CHARLIE WEASLEY CANNOT CATCH THE SNITCH TODAY!" Shell's awful voice reappeared from the fog of the Slytherins' cheers.

Charlie thrust himself into the sea of bludgers and brooms. The snitch jolted left, Charlie hot on its tail. After what seemed like a millennium of tumbling all over the place, he finally caught the snitch (after battling a rather friendly bludger) and the torture was over.

* * *

Each and every Slytherin on the pitch had something to say about Gryffindor's loss. Most of the insults were bland and unoriginal, but Charlie did hear the odd few that were quite creative. He could barely make it back into the castle without having some sort of abuse thrown at him. The stairs that led up to the Gryffindor common room were steep and filled with people - some showed compassion and said he had done his job the best he could have, others blamed him for the failure.

"Still sour from the loss?" The Fat Lady scoffed and primly folded her pink skirt.

"Quid boltres," Charlie said the password through clenched teeth and flared nostrils. He flicked his newly washed hair out of his face and glared at the portrait.

"No need to get your knickers in a twist," the Fat Lady chuckled and swung open.

You'd have thought that considering Gryffindor had lost their last game of the season, they wouldn't be in the mood to celebrate. Music pulsated its way across the crowded room, causing the pounding beat of what Charlie recognised to be his favourite band (named Lean Octopus) to work its way through his system. He was actually quite shocked that there wasn't a riot - Gryffindor had lost! And from previous experience, Charlie knew that they were sore losers.

In no mood for any sort of celebration, Charlie spun swiftly on his heel and beelined his way out of the common room. It wasn't the fact that they had lost that turned his mood sour, he had been in a awful mood all morning - it was probably something to do with his extreme lack of sleep. Only Merlin knew what on earth Violet Bishop was thinking when she downed that firewhiskey bottle almost all in one (Charlie didn't care what she got up to in her own free time, it was when he was dragged into it for unnecessary hell). Charlie barely knew the girl - he knew her sodding brother more than he did her!

Honestly, Charlie had no idea where his legs were taking him - he just knew it would be somewhere he could escape talk of the match. Considering it was Charlie's fifth year at Hogwarts, he already knew what he wanted to do with his life; he wanted to work with dragons. He had always loved magical creatures. Gamekeeper Hagrid had become quite a good friend of Charlie's (even though he was merely just a gamekeeper, he did have some fantastic pets!) due to the fact that he simply didn't laugh at his ambition. Judging by the mid afternoon breeze nipping at Charlie's bare neck, it seemed his feet were taking him to Hagrid's hut.

Usually, the trek to the edge of the Forbidden Forest was deserted and silent - in fact, Charlie reckoned he could probably do it with his eyes shut. Stupidly, he decided to test his theory.

Smack. Into a bush he went, tumbling down a not too steep incline (so why was he tumbling? Charlie himself did not know) and landed with limbs in places they shouldn't be.

"You ridiculous little bitch!" A deep voice shouted.

Charlie's eyes searched for a source for the shouting. No one ever came this far away from the castle - the only other path along this part of the grounds were towards the quidditch pitch, but the match had ended at least an hour ago.

"Accept it, Cleek!" A higher (obviously feminine - and very, very angry) voice sneered - although Charlie didn't need to look to know that the voice belonged to none other than Violet Bishop. Bugger.

Still unsure of where Violet and Cleek were, Charlie did a full three hundred and sixty degree turn - only to find them about five metres north west of his current location.

"We lost! We lost because of you!" Cleek bellowed with fully formed fists at his sides.

Charlie could almost see the cogs turning within Hugh Cleek's thick skull. There was a higher probability of pigs flying than Cleek actually punching Violet - Charlie knew this, although, it didn't stop him. He dug his feet into the ground and sprinted in the direction of Vi and Cleek.

Instead of Cleek's balled fist colliding with Violet's delicate ivory jaw, it sent shudders throughout Charlie's body with a crack. Charlie was pretty sure it was broken (he knew all too well what a broken jaw felt like - let's just say that living with five brothers was a nightmare) and, before he could stop himself, he had Cleek by the throat.

"Don't you ever - EVER - dare to lay so much as a finger on her," Charlie growled, squeezing his fingers every so often. "Ever. Again."

Through his rage, he struggled to hear Cleek's croaked, sarcastic reply.

"Do I make myself clear, wanker?" Charlie's roar was laced with hatred and venom. Feebly, Cleek nodded once and barely had his reply out of his ugly mouth before Charlie had sent him flying in the direction of the castle.

"WHAT IN THE NAME OF MERLIN'S SODDING PANTS WAS THAT, WEASLEY?"

Wincing, Charlie turned on his heel slowly. Absolutely livid, Violet stood with stormy eyes and her left hand gripping her wand.

"WELL?" Violet screeched, expecting some sort of misogynistic crap.

"I - uh," Charlie paused - why had he reacted the way he did?

"Spit it out, Weasley." Violet sneered.

"Well," Charlie took a step towards her. "Cleek was going to hit you."

"Oh, here we go!" Violet yelled. Stomping her way through the grass, she raised her wand at him. "Just because I am a girl-" Violet jabbed Weasley with her wand.

"No!" Charlie interrupted, apologetically.

"Don't lie to me!" Violet shouted. "You didn't think I could handle myself! You thought you'd be the hero and just swoop in and save me!"

Opening his mouth to deny everything, as it turned out, deserved Charlie another (extra hard) stab in the arm.

"You thought wrong, Charlie Weasley." Violet said, fiercely. "I'm not some weak, pathetic-"

Violet's words were left trapped in her throat, dying, for Weasley had captured her mouth with his. His lips were warm and chapped; his hands soft and large, cradling her head. Violet didn't want this - she writhed within Weasley's arms. Finally, she remembered her feet and kicked his shins.

His shin aching dully, Charlie stumbled and landed with a thud. "I'm so sorry, Violet," He pleaded.

"Leave me alone," Violet flicked her wrist, throwing one of the most powerful hexes she could think of at Charlie. Her eyes filled with water and she ran. All she wanted to was crawl into bed and hide from the world.

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_hola mis pirulis de chocolate (hello my chocolate lollipops for those that don't speak spanish! gcse spanish was the bane of my existence - don't make the mistake i did!)_

_so we had our first violet/charlie moment oooo exciting - i apologise for the appallingly terrible description of their kiss - i think i'm going to call them varlie from now on ok _

_BUT IN OTHER NEWS WE REACHED 200 VIEWS MY LORDY WOW I CAN'T BELIEVE IT (this is one of the reasons i uploaded this horribly written chapter earlier than planned (one of the reasons it's so awfully written is because i've been quite busy with things like doing nothing, nothing, nothing and going to my prom which was great) so i hope you like it)_

_so if you like it follow/favourite and review pls bc i could really use the help with any writing tips you guys may have _

* * *

_p.s, hope you don't mind change as the next chap is going to be a fast forward into the future (starting at OoTP woo - it's probs my favourite book from the potter series eeeeeeeeeek) _


	6. Chapter 6

2nd December, 1995

_Pop._

Under flickering street lamps, a lone figure appeared. Yellow light washed away the darkness of the alley in between two blocks of flats. The man was broad and burly with a small red ponytail sticking out from underneath his winter hat. He turned, as if he expected to have been spotted by late night Christmas shoppers - no one had seen him. He clung to the wall, attempting to stay camouflaged by the shadows. Cautiously, he stepped over the rubbish and deadly ice littering the ground.

The bright lights of Muggle London illuminated his route into the block of flats residing on his left. The red-headed man took each step one at a time for the streets were almost a foot deep in snow. With one hand he forced his key into the rusty, old lock and dragged his sodden body into the warmth of the lobby. The faded floorboards creaked as the man checked his post box - he had plenty of letters, just as he had anticipated. He grabbed the letters and made his way upstairs, his footsteps echoing against the high, Georgian ceilings. All he wanted to was crawl into bed - however, he knew that once he had dumped his belongings in his flat, he'd have to check in with his family and let them know he was home, safe and sound.

The battered grey door of Number Two opened without a hitch to reveal a cosy living room. There were stacks of books (mostly were on the subject of magical creatures - in particular, dragons - but there were quite a number of Muggle sci-fi adventures) crammed into the oak bookshelf and piled upon every flat surface. The fireplace was roaring (he had asked his mother to pop in and light it so the apartment was warm when he got in) with beautiful orange and red and yellow flames. Upon the battered school trunk that served as a coffee table, lay a plate with two mince pies - all crumbly and buttery - and a folded piece of paper. In fact, it was not paper - it was an ivory piece of calligraphy card with his name written beautifully with midnight ink.

_"Dear Charlie, _

_Please find enclosed details of this evening's rendezvous. _

_Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore."_

The man lifted the card to find simply a time and place. _Eight o'clock, the Leaky Cauldron. _He etched the delicate words into the walls of his brain before he tore the card in half and scattered the pieces into the fire. Not exactly knowing what to do with himself, Charlie shrugged out of his coat, yanked off his woolly hat and sprawled on his sofa with his feet propped on the trunk in the centre of the room.

After what seemed like at least an hour (it was more like twenty minutes), Charlie could not keep the boredom from seeping into his mind. He started to regret his decision of leaving Romania; mentally, he shook himself - he couldn't think of what he was leaving back in Romania, he had made his choice and now he was going to have to live with it.

* * *

"Alright, Tom?" Charlie greeted the barman with a smile; he was a bit early but he didn't mind, he could use a butterbeer.

The barman set down the glass he was drying. "Charlie Weasley! Is that you?"

"The one and only," Charlie chuckled and ordered a butterbeer whilst he perched himself on a stool.

"Merlin, weren't you in Romania?" Tom poured the butterbeer and placed it in front of Charlie. "Two sickles please, mate."

"Blimey, it's gone up since I left!" Charlie handed over the coins and took a long gulp. "I was in Romania - now I'm not." Charlie strictly remembered his conversation with Dumbledore and did not disclose any more information.

Luckily, the barman didn't press the issue further and slurred a few colourful words to describe the state of the wizardry economy. According to Tom (and many other grunting witches and wizards in the pub), the Ministry had been adding taxes here and there to so-called luxuries.

"Charlie!" An all too familiar voice squealed with a slam of the doors, interrupting the elderly barman's rant.

"Tonks!" Charlie wrapped his arms around his friend and grinned cheerily. "I hear you passed your auror training - congratulations!"

"Almost failed the stealth level, though." Her bubblegum pink hair matched her fiery cheeks from the cold. "Butterbeer please, Tom."

As he had done for Charlie, Tom poured the butterbeer whilst complaining about the Ministry. "What's the auror office like nowadays? Heard it was running right down hill."

"Honestly, Tom, I don't think it's any of your business," said Tonks with an eye roll. She handed over the coins and headed for a rickety old table in the corner of the pub after thanking the barman, Charlie following almost like a lost puppy. Sighing, she took a seat and gulped a large mouthful of her drink.

The pair sat in silence for a few moments until, once more, Tonks sighed. "We're struggling."

"The aurors?" Charlie asked, inquisitively.

"Yeah," she grumbled. "Over the past six months, there's been an increase in suspected Death Eater activity-"

Charlie nodded along, he had to read the _Daily Prophet _from cover to cover to spot the tiny speck of words describing the crimes.

"Well, it seems like the only ones that are keen to clamp down on sorting this out is me, Kingsley and Mad-Eye!" She huffed, one hand underneath the chin. "It's like they're all taking direct orders from Fudge to just _ignore _the evidence - especially sodding Dawlish."

"Surely they can't just turn a blind eye?" Charlie raised his eyebrows.

"Believe me, they bloody are," Tonks downed the rest of her butterbeer, grabbed her cloak and stood.

Charlie followed suit and the pair strolled out of the pub, joking their way through Muggle London. Hopping into a secluded alley, Tonks grabbed Charlie's wrist and winked.

"Remember, the Three Ds," she chuckled. Tonks cleared her mind and thought of Grimmauld Place. Soon enough, she felt the familiar squishing and squeezing sensation of Apparition.

With his feet firmly on the ground, Charlie opened his eyes to see a street named Grimmauld Place. The walls were grubby compared to the pristine snow lying on the ground. Tonks pulled something from within her robe and handed it to Charlie.

"Out loud," she prompted.

Quietly, Charlie whispered the address written on the card. Before he could realise what was happening, Tonks had him by the wrist again and was dragging him up the concrete steps of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.

Shutting the door incredibly carefully, Tonks ushered Charlie into the kitchen. The voices of his family were muffled behind the heavy door but it seemed like Mrs. Weasley was yelling at Sirius (Charlie knew it was Sirius for neither Bill nor his father would dare to speak to her the way Sirius was) for only Merlin knows. He pushed the doorknob and light flooded the dark, musty corridor.

"-_MY_ GODSON - STOP INTERFERING, YOU OLD HAG!" Sirius shouted and stormed out of the room, pushing past Charlie and Tonks on his way.

Molly Weasley sat down at the wooden table, tears stinging her eyes. A hand brushed her shoulder, the touch rough and calloused; she glanced up at the face belonging to the hand, sobs bubbling through her tightly shut lips. "Oh, Charlie!" She gushed.

"Alright, Mum?" Charlie gathered his weeping mother into his arms, basking in the familiar scent of home.

"I'm so glad you're back," said Molly with a sad smile. It was almost like she did not believe it was her son for he looked incredibly different, he was still slightly tanned with an enormous amount of freckles, nevertheless, he had let his hair grow out and now sported a beard.

"We need to sort out that beard of yours!" Molly smiled with a stern look to her eye.

"I am never letting you near me with a pair of scissors - just look at Bill!"

With a sharp slap to his shoulder (courtesy of Molly Weasley), Charlie's grin melted off of his face faster than you could say _Accio scissors!_

After an emotional reunion (on his mother's part only) with his family, Charlie was surprised to be ushered straight into his first ever meeting of the Order and the Phoenix. The living room was cramped, to say the least. People were conjuring chairs and cushions to sit on whilst others argued over which seat they wanted. In the end, it seemed that Dumbledore himself struggled to quieten the group.

"If I may," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled intensely, "please introduce our newest member, Charlie Weasley." He gestured to where Charlie was sat whilst a few whispered faint hellos.

The meeting ran like clockwork - although, Charlie didn't really know what constituted as "clockwork" for it was only his first meeting. Dumbledore had requested for each person to report anything that they had to share (Charlie was surprised that Tonks never brought up her fears of Fudge controlling the auror office) which started a heated discussion between his brother, Bill, and Alastor Moody. Honestly, Charlie didn't have the faintest idea of what they were so passionately arguing but he stayed quiet nonetheless. In the end, Charlie's father was forced to suggest that Mad-Eye stepped outside for a few moments to compose himself before he burst a blood vessel.

"I do apologise, Molly," Dumbledore rose from his perch on the battered rocking chair in the corner and glided across the room, "I cannot stay for dinner for I am needed back at Hogwarts."

Molly Weasley shot up from her seat (similarly to a jack-in-the-box) with a gasp. "The stew!"

Noise erupted within the sitting room and people jiggled their way - rather unattractively - through the trickle of bodies that clogged up the narrow hallway outside. Charlie remained seated, not really knowing how to make sense of all of the information; his brain was bursting with secrets. They weren't particularly harmful secrets, but they were secrets that the rest of the Wizarding World (especially You-Know-Who and his band of merry men) were better off remaining blissfully ignorant.

"Charlie, dear," his mother's voice rang from the kitchen, "dinner's ready!"

With a familiar sense of home (considering Number Twelve Grimmauld Place was not in the least bit similar to the Burrow), Charlie inhaled the gorgeous scent of his mother's home cooking and the, however annoying at seven o'clock in the morning, sound of people filling the house to the brim was what truly made Charlie Weasley think, _it's good to be home. _

* * *

_hello friends how are you all_

_i decided to try writing slightly different in this chapter - it was rather fun and i quite like the way it turned out, leave me a review with your thoughts! this is probably one of my favourite chapters so far; the words just flowed through my brain with such an elegant flow it was truly wondrous _

_also, I had a question by a guest reviewer the other day - but i am afraid to tell you that all i can say (without revealing too much of the plot) that Violet's mother recovered fully from the incident in chapter 3  
_

_so this is now 6 years after the last chapter i hope you all don't get confused (i also feel i need to clarify that this is charlie's first order meeting - he already knew some things about the order but this is the first time he is fully immersed in the meeting bc he was in romania but now he has moved back to england to be nearer his family bc percy is being a prat) _

_so if you all could review and fave and follow that'd be grand _

_goodbye my scotch eggs x_

**- DISCLAIMER - I OWN NOTHING, THAT PRIVILEGE LIES WITH MY QUEEN JKR - **


	7. Chapter 7

2nd December, 1995

With a snap of rubber gloves, Violet Bishop had finished her shift at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Her final patient of the day had been a small boy with a particularly nasty case of dragon pox. Violet had concluded that the boy ought to stay overnight, much to his mother's displeasure.

"Look, I'm just doing my job," Violet had said.

To be a healer at one of the busiest and biggest magical hospitals in Europe demanded a lot of time and energy. For Violet, this was perfect; she enjoyed the fast pace and the knowledge (before she had started, she had studied texts upon texts all about magical conditions - Tonks had chuckled and said it was Violet's inner Ravenclaw) that came with the job. However, she wasn't overly comfortable with the brave demeanour she had to portray. Sure, she could battle through the blood and gore - but she never seemed to be able to fight through a particularly difficult case.

Her very first patient that had died was a lovely elderly witch named Elody; she had died peacefully in her sleep after all her family had visited - personally, Violet believed it was a nice way to die, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she could have done more. Of course, she knew she couldn't have - Elody had died of old age, for goodness sake! Once the door to Violet's flat had firmly slammed, she had dissolved into a flood of tears. Blubbering, she had turned up on the doorstep of her family home and was soothed into a restless sleep by her mother and a steaming cup of hot chocolate. Violet had always been very ashamed of this - it wasn't very Gryffindor of her.

Although these secret fears and woes haunted Violet, she excelled in the art of healing - actually, she was named one of the best young healers in the country. Vi was proud of herself, for once in her life, as she had seemed to surpass her average grades and her average life and her average eighteen year old self - now, she was a twenty-something year old with aspirations, with a career. Most of all, she had success - and that had been all she had ever craved.

* * *

"See you later," Violet waved madly at her friend (and colleague, Winifred Francis) whilst the emerald flames of the fireplace engulfed her, Floo powder pinched in her fist. "Square Brook Terrace!"

The cluttered, squished sitting room of Violet's flat materialised between the green flames and out she stepped, the wooden floorboards creaking underfoot. Not for the first time, Violet was running quite late. Her evening plans included dinner and a possible argument - always between her and Mungdungus Fletcher, _always _- but, she enjoyed her Saturday evenings holed up in Grimmauld Place.

The story of how Violet actually joined the Order of the Phoenix is neither long nor exciting; the Order needed a trusted and exceptional healer within their ranks (it had seemed that Molly Weasley's knowledge of all things medical was extremely limited), as it had turned out, Violet fit the bill. It was either her strong friendship with Nymphadora Tonks or her willingness to help that made Dumbledore offer her a membership. He had turned up in St Mungo's on the graveyard shift and talked her through the basics of the Order.

"Miss Bishop," his half moon spectacles - matching the half moon in the sky - clung to his hooked nose, "I fear you do not realise the implications of joining our ranks."

"If there is anything I can do help, I want to do it," Violet was confident and maintained a steady voice, though her hands were sweaty and trembling, hidden under her cloak.

"If I do remember correctly, Defence Against the Dark Arts was one of your strongest subjects," Dumbledore chuckled, shutting his right eye in a wink. "Miss Tonks will, as she says, 'fill you in' soon, I'm sure."

Violet still remembered that unusually chilly night in late August, how Dumbledore had disappeared almost immediately. She shook her head, mentally boxing up all things work-related and shoving it into a corner. Now was not the time for Healer Bishop, now was the time for Violet.

Number Twelve Grimmauld Place was, to put it lightly, grim. The snow, trampled and slushy, that lay like an unpleasant blanket on the pavement was cleaner than the Noble House of Black. Sideboards inches thick with dust, grubby portraits lining the tainted wallpapered walls and the foul stench that lingered in every room of the house made Violet feel like she was trespassing (of course, she was not for Sirius had kindly donated the house to Dumbledore as a headquarters), though the laughter and noise - muffled by the heavy, oak door to the kitchen - welcomed the witch home with open arms.

"-bloody hell!" A voice cried, laughter echoed from each corner of the room. "Vomiting toilets?"

"I assure you, Char, _vomiting _toilets!"

Char? Who the hell is Char?

_Oh no._

* * *

The hairs at the back of Charlie's neck prickled; someone was stood behind him. Directly behind him. Every fibre in his body told him to turn, however, he could not bring himself to meet those eyes - it wasn't like he didn't know who it was. Of course he knew who it was, the look on Tonks' face was enough.

"Violet!" Tonks squealed, clapping her hands like a four year old.

"Hi," a voice faltered behind Charlie.

"Oh, Violet!" His mother beamed beside him and gestured to the empty seat to his left. "Sit down!"

_Bollocks._

* * *

_ok ok i know. this is one of the crappiest chapters ever ok i'm so sorry for not updating! life has been hectic i'm so sorry omg (no what are you on about i did so totally start watching teen wolf and no i totally did not rewatch the vampire diaries shhhhh)_

_i shall be updating pretty soon i reckon, i think this was just an awkward chapter for me to write bc i really got into writing from charlie's pov but this chapter needed to be in violet's so i didn't really have any motivation! _

_i'm literally sat here sobbing at the how i met your mother finale omg i've already seen it at least once why am i still crying? (although, i cry at the last episode of friends every time, without fail!)_

_ok if you could please review and fave and follow bc it means the world! i appreciate every single person that reads this fic and it would be lovely for you guys to be acknowledged! _

_goodbye my caravan cookies x _

**- DISCLAIMER - I DO NOT OWN ANY CHARACTERS YOU MAY RECOGNISE, THAT PRIVILEGE LIES WITH MY QUEEN JKR - **


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